


The Phantom's Menace

by Nope



Category: Dead Boy Detectives, Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-18
Updated: 2005-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:57:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1630241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nope/pseuds/Nope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dramatic case for the Dead Boy Detectives!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Phantom's Menace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jheen

 

 

Sometimes, when he forgot he didn't sleep, Charles Rowland dreamt of the attic where he and Edwin Paine both died, some seventy-five years apart. Sometimes, he dreamt of the kitchen boys, of heated stabbing prongs, of fever and thirst, and those were bad dreams. Sometimes he dreamt of Edwin's cool, comforting hand holding his, and those were good dreams. And sometimes he dreamt of Her dark hair and shining ankh, of how they refused to go with Her, how She left them together, saying She'd come back later; and he's not altogether sure if those were good dreams or bad.

Edwin, who of course had been dead far longer than Charles, never slept at all. Instead, he liked to spend his nights haunting late showings of detective movies, picking up the tips of trade. On those evenings when there was nothing on, as indeed was the case tonight, he searched the papers for a mystery of their own.

And what a mystery he'd found!

"Charles! Come read this." He waved the paper in excitement. "'Peter Panto's Phantom Peril'. A local production of Peter Pan is being plagued by a series of quite mysterious accidents at a theatre that's been reputedly haunted for decades."

"A panto ghost? Like the opera phantom?"

"I didn't know you read French, Charles."

"I saw the film, Edwin. Anyway," Charles added, coming over to take the paper, "the phantom wasn't a real ghost."

"Neither is this one, if that is to be believed," said Edwin, pointing over his shoulder at a part further down the article. "There's a young girl who insists it's not a ghost, but someone else, and look--"

"--she's asking for detectives!" Charles grinned. "It's a case!"

"The game's afoot!" Edwin agreed. "There's another rehearsal tonight."

"If we squoosh, we'll just make it," said Charles.

"Are you sure?" asked Edwin. "It does make you sick."

"Anything for a case," said Charles. "I've got the disguise kit."

"Good work!"

#

It was bedlam backstage at the Adelphi Theatre. Sets were going up, curtains were coming down, lights were swinging left, stage hands were running right, actors and actresses were standing in the middle, everyone of them yelling and not a one of them listening, and certainly not noticing a ripple in the air resolve itself into two boys, one in a red jumper and blue jeans, the other in a black jacket, tie and short pants.

Charles moaned. "It's lucky we don't eat," he said, "or I think I'd be making a mess right about now."

"Walk around a bit," said Edwin, absently rubbing Charles back. "You'll soon feel better. And we might find some clues. I have my magnifying glass ready."

"Out of my way!" cried a shrill voice, and a large woman with surprisingly bright red hair shoved her way between them. She would have knocked Edwin down if Charles hadn't grabbed him, but instead of apologising, she just gave him an evil look, muttered "children!" in a disparaging tone and stormed off. The could hear her yell fading into the distance. "Henry? What am I supposed to do with this monstrosity of a wig?! HENRY!"

"She saw us," said Edwin. "Adults aren't supposed to see us, unless they're open to magic and the supernatural."

"I suspect her," said Charles. "Never trust a dame."

"Look," said Edwin, pointing. "An elf!"

They watched the blonde in the green leaves and pixie boots tug at some dangling ropes, face rather dubious.

"I think that's the person playing Peter Pan," said Charles. "They can do amazing things with make-up these days."

"Actually, it's Peter's understudy," said a pretty voice behind them. "The last understudy we have left since the accidents have scared everyone else off. Hello," she added as they turned to look at her, a small, rather pretty brunette in a white floral dress and headband. "I'm Liz. Are you the detectives?"

"Oh. Um. Er." Charles said.

Edwin, who was far too polite to roll his eyes at his friend, no matter the provocation, smiled and stepped forward. "Hello, I'm Edwin Paine, and this is Charles Rowland, my partner. You're the girl in the paper."

She nodded. "That's right. Oh, I do so hope you can help! If we can't put on a play soon, the theatre will be ruined! They'll have to close it up and everything." She sniffled.

"Don't worry, lady," said Charles quickly. "We'll bust this case wide open! We'll catch the bad guy in a flash!"

"Or the bad ghost," put in Edwin, cautiously. It didn't hurt to cover all options.

"Ghost!" exclaimed Liz, annoyed. "You're just like the others!"

"We're not," said Charles. "Really! We're--" He was about to explain that he was a ghost, but a sharp elbow jab from Edwin stopped him, so he said, "--detectives" instead. "We'll follow all the leads, no matter how big or how small."

"You can trust us," said Edwin. "We've solved almost all of our cases."

This time it was Charles's turn to elbow-nudge. "You're not supposed to tell her that," he whispered sharply.

"Oops," Edwin whispered back.

Liz giggled. "I'm glad you're here! I feel much better now!"

"Henry! Where is that man?" It was the large woman again, bustling back towards them. "This just won't do! I need more leaves in my costume, and this wig is just dreadful. You there--" this, bellowed imperiously at Charles and Edwin "--have you seen Henry? Oh, dear, oh, dear," she added to herself, pulling a rabbit's foot out of her pocket and rubbing it, "I do hope there hasn't been another accident. Nothing must disturb the vibrations before my performance. Nothing!"

"That's Hillary Tuft," said Liz. "She's playing Peter."

"She is?!" cried Edwin and Charles at the same time.

"But she's so, so, so..." Edwin stuttered.

"Wide," supplied Charles.

"The theatre's gotten a bad reputation," admitted Liz. "We've had dreadful trouble getting actors. They're all a bit, well..."

"C-List?" suggested Charles.

"Z-list," sighed Liz.

"Oh, dear," said Edwin.

"Are those nuts?!" screamed Hilary, pointing at a stage hand.

"Er, yes," he said. "Peanuts. Want one?"

"Away from me!" she cried, slapping the back of one meaty hand to her glistening forehead. "I'm horribly allergic! I shall just die! Oh! The vibrations are wrong! All wrong! I need my crystals! My crystals!"

She waited. No one moved.

"My crystals!" she bellowed again.

"We'll fetch them," said Edwin.

"We will?" asked Charles.

"Yes," whispered Edwin. "That way we can search her dressing room!"

"Oooh," said Charles. "Good plan, Edwin."

"Thank you," said Edwin.

"Wonderful child," said Hilary. "Hurry! I feel a dreadful headache coming on."

"If the vibrations are all wrong," the elf said, "I'm happy to perform in your place."

"Nonsense," said Hilary quickly. "The show must go on! A true actress suffers for her art!" She clapped a hand to her forehead again.

"Come on," said Liz quickly, "I'll show you the way."

They dodged their way across the backstage area, darting around props and guide ropes and dodging falling backdrops and rising counter-weight sand-bags until they finally came to a short flight of stairs and a corridor leading to Hilary's dressing room which, it turned out, was the same dressing room as everyone else.

"We're only a very small theatre," said Liz, defensively, "but we do our best for all our actors."

"It's nice," said Charles quickly.

"It's cosy," said Edwin.

It was mostly small. Mirrors adorned every wall, even the back of the door, squares of lights around them. Props and costumes and make-up and the actors' clothes were shoved into every space that could take them until the cupboard doors bulged out dangerously and the entire room gave the impression that if all the actors come in at once it would either explode violently or implode, sucking London in with it.

"Very cosy," said Edwin.

"That's Hilary's corner," said Liz, pointing.

The boys took a closer look. Lots of newspaper clippings had been taped up around the paper, but you would've been hard pressed to read them through all the things dangling down over them.

"Look at this!" said Charles. "More rabbit's feet. Crystals. Chicken foot. Rocks and pennies with holes in them. Pendants, amulets and charms, oh, my. Maybe she's a witch," he added quietly to Edwin. "Remember Mad Hettie?"

"I'm sure they're just for good luck," said Liz. "Everyone has something they keep around for luck."

"Edwin has his magnifying glass," said Charles and, indeed, Edwin had his glass out and was looking through it at the papers. "Did you find something?"

"I think so," said Edwin. "Take a look at these clippings." He handed Charles the magnifying glass.

"Thanks," said Charles. He leant in to read. "They're all reviews for Ms. Tuft. Wow, she seems to be a real star."

"Yes," said Edwin, "but look at the dates."

"The dates?" Charles did. "Oh! They're all years and years old!"

"Exactly," said Edwin gravely.

"What?" asked Liz. "Is it a clue?"

"Maybe," said Edwin.

"Of course it is!" said Charles. "I bet she was so hard up for new work that she caused all the accidents so you'd hire her! See," he said to Edwin, "I said she did."

"We just suspect she did it," Edwin cautioned him. "We still don't have any proof."

"But we'll find some," Charles assured Liz. "We're detectives!"

Alas, a further inspection of the room, both with and without the magnifying glass revealed nothing, and it seemed like no time at all had passed before Liz was urgently saying, "We should take the crystals to Hilary before she gets suspicious."

"I'm sure there's some place in here we haven't looked," said Charles. "Are there secret passages? There're always secret passages."

"We can look around more when the rehearsal starts," said Edwin, fetching the crystals down. "That's soon, isn't it?"

"Very soon," said a sharp voice from the doorway, and they all turned quickly to see it was the understudy. "I know what you're up to, and you're not getting away with it! Sneaking around, prying into everything!"

"We're not up to nothing, Lee," said Liz, quite truthfully.

"I see you trying to cosy up to Tuft," said Lee. She grabbed the crystals away from Edwin. "Don't think you can get into the play by becoming her favourites. The role is mine, you get that? I've worked hard for this! You're not going to just come in and take it! Now, get out of my dressing room!"

"It's everyone's dressing room," said Liz, stomping her foot. "The theatre's family! We all share and share alike!"

"If it's a family," sneered Lee, "you're the unwanted step-children. Get!"

She looked so furious the other three decided on strategic withdrawal and hurried outside where they almost bumped into a distracted looking thin man who was looking around.

"Hello, Henry," said Liz.

"Hello," said Charles and Edwin politely, but Henry appeared not to notice as he was peering into the dressing room. Seeing Lee in there he turned and started to go in the other direction, but Hilary appeared and he let out a little 'eep' and rushed off in the other direction.

"He's under a lot of stress," said Liz. "He's the owner and the stage manager AND the director!"

"I'd run away a lot if I had to work with Ms. Tuft, too," said Charles.

"Charles!" exclaimed Edwin. "That's not a very nice thing to say!"

"No," admitted Charles, sheepishly. "But it's true though."

Edwin had to agree with that.

"The rehearsal's about to start," said Liz. "If there's going to be another accident, it'll be soon."

"We should watch out for the 'ghost'," said Charles.

"If it's Ms. Tuft," said Edwin, "there won't be an accident, because she'll have got what she wants already."

"I sort of hope so," said Liz, "because if there's no accidents we can put on the panto; but I sort of hope there will to. I hate to think any actor would hurt another actor! Family's shouldn't fight amongst themselves."

"You really like the theatre, don't you?" said Edwin.

"Oh, yes!" Liz beamed. "It's my favourite thing in the world!"

"Coming through!" called a stagehand, approaching them backwards, carrying a large crocodile head with help from another man. "Damn this thing is heavy."

"I'm carrying all the manacles too," said the other. "Stop complaining."

"They're plastic," returned the first. "They barely weigh anything. I drop this, I lose a foot."

"And you'll just blame it on the ghost again."

"Hey, I checked those ropes twice before we started and they were fine! And what about you and that trap-door?"

"That was an accident! Everyone knows this place is ancient. The catch probably just snapped because it was old!"

"I heard the ghost is a popular actor who got killed by a jealous rival," said a third stage-hand, "and died in the arms of his mistress, promising to return."

"I heard the ghost was the mistress," said the first, "knocking off anyone who tried to take her lover's leading role, even though he himself has been dead for decades."

"Well, I heard it was a young--"

"You're all wrong," yelled Liz, stomping her foot.

The stage-hands all ignored her, continuing to trade theories across the crocodile head.

"Don't worry," said Charles, awkwardly patting Liz's shoulder. "We'll get to the bottom of this whole mystery!"

"Do, please!" cried Liz and, wrapping her arms around him, sobbed against his shoulder. Charles looked to Edwin for help, but the other boy was busy examining the croc with his magnifying glass and didn't notice. Charles tried patting Liz some more and saying "there, there."

"Oh!" said Liz, suddenly lifting her head, "listen! They've started!" Drying her eyes on the sleeve of her dress, she squeezed past the oblivious stage-hands and headed towards the stage.

Charles and Edwin followed, and the three of them clustered in the wing, watching the stage intently for any signs of criminals, phantom or otherwise.

Hilary, resplendent in leaves and big blonde wig, was loudly proclaiming "here's a kiss!" and holding out a thimble.

"No," said Wendy, "I mean, um, here, here's a, a-- ...line?"

"A real kiss!" hissed Henry from the opposite wing.

"A real kiss!" said Wendy. "Right. Um. Oh! So I should kiss you now!" She puckered up, eyes squeezed tight.

"See what I have to work with?" whispered Hilary loud enough to be heard to be everyone and, leaning in, kissed Wendy loudly. "Oh!"

"Er," said Wendy. "And, um. Now we must fight Hook?"

"Argh!" cried Hilary.

"Was that the wrong line?" asked Wendy. "Did I do it wrong again? Oh, dear, oh, dear!"

Hilary was making choking noises and grabbing at her throat.

"Well!" cried Wendy. "I hardly think I was that bad!"

"Oh, no," said Edwin in the wings. "I think something is really wrong! Quick, Charles!"

The three of them rushed on stage to check Hilary who was now staggering around wildly.

"Peter?" said Wendy. "I mean, Hilary? Are you okay?"

Hilary waved wildly at her lips and tongue which were swelling up, then shook a fist at Wendy.

"What?" asked Wendy. "No, really, what? Are you trying to say something? Do you need a glass of water?"

"She's having an allergic reaction," said Edwin.

"Someone call a doctor!" cried Charles.

"Hello?" said Wendy. "Hilary? Is this charades? Is it a film?"

Fortunately, it seemed someone had already called for a medic, for a couple of people in white coats rushed onto the stage and, with a bit of effort since Hilary was still angrily shaking her fists at Wendy, carted her off.

"She did say she was allergic to nuts," said Edwin. He said "excuse me" to Wendy repeatedly until she noticed him, and then asked, "did you eat some nuts?"

"No," she said. "I'd just put on my lipstick and I didn't want to smudge anything."

"Your lipstick?" said Charles. "Could that have nuts in?"

"I don't think so," said Liz, but Edwin was looking thoughtful.

"The show goes on," cried Lee. "We won't let this stop us! I shall be your Peter now!"

Wendy looked Lee up and down, then smiled. "Okay," she said. "That works for me. I'm sure I'll remember my lines better now that Tuft's gone. She scared me a bit."

"I'll go get ready," said Lee.

"Quick," said Edwin, grabbing Charles. "We have to get to the dressing room first."

"Why?" said Charles. "Oh! To check the lipstick!"

"Exactly," said Edwin. "See you later, Liz!"

"Okay!" she said.

Since no-one was looking, Edwin and Charles took the quick route, and ran through the walls to get to the dressing room.

"I guess it couldn't have been Ms. Tuft causing all the accidents after all," said Charles as they searched for the lipstick. "Unless she did this to herself to throw us off the trail!"

"Maybe," said Edwin, "but if she was getting people out of the way to be in the play, why would she have made it so she couldn't be in the play either?"

"...good point," said Charles. "Hey, I've found the lipstick!"

Edwin came over to look. "Has it been tampered with?"

Charles sniffed it. "It does sort of smells nutty."

"If we weren't ghosts, we could do a taste test," said Edwin.

"I miss eating, sometimes," said Charles with a small sigh. "I once won a spaghetti eating competition! And now we can't eat at all."

"I sometimes miss eating too," said Edwin, giving him a quick hug. "But there are lots of advantages to being ghosts. Like never having to pay to go to the cinema!"

"And being detectives," said Charles, smiling back. "So, who do we suspect now?"

"Someone who knew about the peanuts and had access to the dressing room," said Edwin.

"That could be anyone on stage," said Charles.

"Maybe not," said Edwin. "I think we had the right motive before, but the wrong person."

"You still think someone is trying to get into the play?" Charles considered for a moment, then realised, "remember who said they could replace Ms. Tuft if anything happened to her on stage?"

"Lee!" said Edwin.

"Yes," said Charles.

"No, Charles," said Edwin, pointing, "it's Lee."

Lee it was, standing in the doorway, glaring at the two of them.

"We know you did it," said Charles. "Give it up and we'll go easy on you!"

"You'll go easy on me?" asked Lee.

"I ain't never hit a dame," said Charles, "but I'd do it for justice."

"Except that Jumping Joan girl," put in Edwin.

"Well, yes, I hit her," admitted Charles. "But that was an accident."

"And she gave you a proper shiner. too," said Edwin. "So I think that counts as evens."

"You're both very strange," said Lee. "And I have no idea what you're talking about. Now, bugger off! I have to get changed." She pulled off her tight pixie boots, wriggling her toes in relief. "Ah, that's better! Maybe I'll get a costume that fits, now I'm Peter."

"We know you caused all the accidents," said Charles. "And we're--"

"I say," said Edwin suddenly. "Charles! Look at her feet!"

"There's nothing wrong with me feet," cried Lee, trying to pull the boots back on.

"They don't touch the ground," said Charles.

"You really are an elf!" said Edwin.

"Yeah, well, you're ghosts," snapped Lee. "You don't see me going round accusing you of knocking people off, do you? And don't think you can go round telling people I'm an elf, either!"

"Quick, Edwin," said Charles. "Grab some iron! We've got her now!"

"Wait, wait, wait," cried Lee. "There's no call for iron! I'm innocent, I tell you! I'm not licensed to hurt humans, you know. Queen Titania would have my guts for garters!"

"You need a license to hurt humans?" asked Edwin.

"Of course you do," said Lee. "Everybody knows that."

Edwin looked at Charles who shrugged, indicating he hadn't known that either. "But what are you doing here?"

"Acting, stupid," said Lee. "Just because I'm not very good at glamours, the other elves would never let me join in with all the fun. Well, I'll show them all! I told them I was going hunting, then nipped out the nearest gate and started looking for a theatre. I'm going to prove you don't need glamours to trick people into thinking you're something you're not!"

Charles nodded. "We have a disguise kit for that."

Edwin was still frowning at Lee, but, before he could say anything, she'd grabbed a handful of Hilary's charms and was advancing on them.

"And if you try and tell anyone anything, I bet I can find a charm or two in here that will let me exorcise a couple of troublesome spirits! Now get out! Out!"

"But--" tried Charles.

"Out!" screamed Lee.

The two boys hurriedly dodged out the nearest wall, almost passing through Henry as he rushed past, and kept going until they'd put two more walls between them and the elf, stopping in dusty old storage space under the stage.

"Phew!" said Charles. "She's rather scary!"

"We need a new suspect, dash it all," said Edwin. "Maybe that Wendy girl? She did say Ms. Tuft scared her."

"It could still be Lee," said Charles. "If she lied about being an elf, and she lied to her people about why she left, maybe she's lying about not hurting people too."

"Good point, Charles," said Edwin. "We'll keep a very close eye on things and-- Ooof!"

"Edwin!" Charles hurried over to where his friend had fallen and helped him up. "Are you okay?"

"I'm quite fine," said Edwin. "I just tripped on something. Just there."

They both looked.

"Is that...?" asked Charles.

"I think so," said Edwin.

It was: a pile of bones in the corner.

"You don't think Lee killed someone, do you?" asked Edwin.

"No," said Charles. "There was nothing about people being killed in the paper, just getting hurt. Besides, there'd still be, um, squishy bits left. These are old bones."

They exchanged looks.

"Maybe the theatre IS haunted!" exclaimed Edwin.

"By ghosts that aren't us!" added Charles.

They both shivered and moved closer to each other, looking around. Something thudded loudly above them, and they both jumped, clinging to each other, but then Edwin relaxed and smiled at Charles. "It's just the rehearsal starting again."

"The rehearsal!" said Charles. "We have to get up there!"

"Oh, yes!" said Edwin. "Quickly, Charles!"

They floated up through the stage, trying to spot Liz. They couldn't see her, but it looked like everyone and come out to the front to watch the new Peter, so they snuck around to watch as well.

"You tried to poison Tinkerbell," Lee was crying, waving her wooden sword at the man playing Hook.

"And I would've gotten away with it too," said Hook, "if it wasn't for you pesky kid! Pirates! Grab him!"

A rather melodramatic mock fight ensued on the stage.

"This is really rather enthralling," said Edwin, bouncing a little and miming thrusts of a sword.

"She is very good," agreed Charles, watching just as intently.

For a moment it looked as if Peter would triumph, but then the pirates surged back, knocking her sword away.

"I say," said Edwin suddenly. "Those aren't the same manacles as before!"

"Oh, no!" cried Charles. "They're real! Look out, Lee!"

Unfortunately, it seemed Lee took the warning as the audience just getting into the spirit of things, for she just winked at the boys, pretending to struggle against the pirates.

"You can chain me all you want," she cried, "but you can never hold the Pan!" And she crowed loudly, over the sound of Edwin crying "no!" and Charles yelling "Look out!" again.

"We'll see," said Hook. "Shackle him!"

Charles and Edwin rushed onto the stage, but it was too late; the moment the cold iron manacles closed over Lee's wrist, her smile vanished, replaced by a blood curdling scream as she collapsed to the stage.

"Bloody hell," said Hook. "Turn it down a bit, Lee! That's a bit too real for a Panto!"

"It is real," yelled Charles. "She's allergic to iron! Get those chains off!" No one moved, so he tried it himself. "Help me, Edwin!"

"I've got it," cried Edwin and then, a moment later, Liz was there too and, between the three of them, they managed to get the manacles off the moaning Lee.

"Will she be okay?" asked Liz.

"I think so," said Charles, watching as the stagehands from earlier helped Lee off the stage. "She just needs to rest for a day or so."

"A day or so?" cried Liz. "But, but-- Opening night! The play! Closure! Bad! Very bad!"

"Isn't there anyone else?" asked Edwin.

"Where would we find someone this late?" asked Liz. "We had enough trouble getting these people!"

Henry had come out on stage and he was discussing this very issue with the other actors. Everyone had seemed to come to the same conclusion, when Charles suddenly had an idea.

"I know someone," he said.

"You do?" said Edwin.

"You do!" cried Liz.

"You do?!" asked Henry. "Who?"

"Edwin," said Charles proudly.

"Yes?" said Edwin, confused, and then he realised what Charles was getting. "Oh! Oh, no, I really don't think I could, Charles!"

"Of course you can," said Charles. "You'll be brilliant!"

"I don't know about this," said Edwin.

"If the boy doesn't want to do it," said Henry, "we can't force him."

"Oh, do please say you'll do it, Edwin," said Liz. "You'll save the day."

"Charles looks much better in tights than me," said Edwin. "Perhaps he should--"

"You'll be much better than me, Edwin," said Charles. "Besides," he leaned in conspiratorially, "if you're in the play, maybe someone will try and give you an accident too."

"Oh," said Edwin, who hadn't considered this. "Good point."

"And it's not like they can kill you again," Charles whispered.

"I hope not," said Edwin.

"You'll do it?" asked Liz.

"I'll do it," Edwin said.

She cheered and hugged him hard. Edwin blushed.

"You will?" said Henry. "Oh. Well. Someone get him a script or something. And costumes. Places, people! We'll do the, uh, we'll start with the flying scene? Then we can see how you work with all the others." He hurried off.

"Keep your eyes peeled," Charles said.

"You too," said Edwin.

#

"You know, Charles," said Edwin, "I'm having second thoughts about this."

"It's a bit late for that, Edwin," said Charles. "Now stand still why I tie this rope to your leaves."

"I feel a bit silly," said Edwin.

"You look great," said Charles. "Doesn't he, Liz?"

"You look fine," agreed Liz. "Very Peter Pan!"

"I've been thinking," Edwin said to Charles, "if it is a--" He glanced at Liz, then lowered his voice. "You-know-what, then it's going to be able to touch us. Regular living people can't, but we can touch each other, so it stands to reason that ghosts and things can touch us. Remember Jumping Joan and the shiner? I don't want to get killed twice!"

"I don't want you to get killed twice, either," said Charles, "but we always say we'll do anything to solve the case. And, look on the upside?"

"The upside?" asked Edwin, tugging tentatively on the rope, remembering Lee's own dubious examination of them earlier in the day.

"You'll have the best view from up there!" said Charles and he waved at the stagehands.

Edwin yelped as he was dragged up into the air, swinging wildly back and forwards across the stage.

"Do you think he's going to be okay?" asked Liz. "He does look very pale."

This was true since they both always did, on account of being dead, so it didn't really worry Charles. Even if Edwin did look a little green, it'd be okay. Since ghosts didn't eat, they couldn't actually be sick either, no matter how bad they feel.

"It's just like squooshing," he called up.

"It really isn't," Edwin called back.

"Do you see anything?" Charles said.

"The stage," said Edwin. "A long way below me!"

"You'll be fine!" Charles yelled up to him. "He'll be fine," he added normally to Liz.

"Perhaps I should go check from the other wing," she said. "That way we've got the whole stage covered between us."

"Good plan," said Charles. "I'll watch from over there."

Liz nodded and hurried off. Charles found a good vantage point. Edwin swung slowly back and forth over the stage in his leaf covered leotard, sighing to himself and muttering, "This sort of thing never happened to Sherlock Holmes."

He couldn't see anything untoward going on, so he pulled out the script he'd been given and read over his lines again.

Charles bounced nervously in the wings. Edwin was much better at the standing around part than he was. Charles liked the charging in and the accusing bit. He wondered if Liz could see anything, but the bright stage lights made it so that the far wing was all dark shadows.

"Hey, Edwin," he called up, "I just had a thought."

"What thought was that, Charles?"

"What if Liz has been behind it all along?"

Edwin frowned. "Are you going back to suspecting our clients again?"

"Maybe," said Charles.

"Because you haven't actually ever been right about that."

"There's always a first time," said Charles.

"True," said Edwin. "Wait, isn't she with you?"

"She said she was checking the other wing," said Charles, "but I can't see her. Can you?"

Edwin tried to look, sending himself swinging wildly back and forth again. "I don't think so," he called down to Charles, "but it's all a bit blurry when you're doing this!"

"Hang on, Edwin! I'll go check!"

"I'm definitely hanging," muttered Edwin, watching Charles duck behind the backdrop.

It was dark back there, and Charles tripped over more than one prop before he reminded himself that he was a ghost and if walls didn't stop him, there was no reason oars, sails and crocodile tails should either and floated through them instead. Another plus for the being dead column: you couldn't actually run into anything

"Ooof!"

unless it was already dead.

Liz stared at him.

He stared at Liz.

"You're a ghost too!" they both yelled.

"I knew it," cried Charles. "I mean, I didn't know you were a ghost, although I was just about to work it out, but I knew you were the bad guy all along! I mean, the bad girl!"

"What?" said Liz. "No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are," said Charles. "We saw your bones and everything! You're trying to scare everyone out of your theatre!"

"I love the theatre," cried Liz. "It's my favourite place in the whole wide world! I want people in it! Lots of people!" Calming down a little, she continued, "Anyway, I didn't die here, I just brought my bones here, for luck. Everyone has something they keep around for luck."

"Oh," said Charles, deflating. "Yeah, you said that before. But if you're not the ghost -- I mean, you are the ghost, but if the ghost isn't doing it, and Ms. Tuft isn't doing it, and Lee isn't doing it, and I'm not doing it, and Edwin's not--"

There was a loud scream.

"EDWIN!" they yelled and rushed back to the stage, leaping out through the wall into a cloud of falling script pages.

"Good Lord," cried Henry, rushing in from the wings. "Not another accident!"

"Hardly an accident," said Charles, examining the end of the rope that had fallen on him. "This has been cut!" He started following the rope, knocking paper aside.

"We've lost our lead," moaned Henry. "We'll have to shut down!"

"It's okay," said Edwin, popping up in another flurry of paper. "I'm perfectly fine!" He waved at Henry.

Henry stared.

"There you are," said Charles, waving the rope at him. "What happened? You've lost your costume too!"

"I fell through the stage," whispered Edwin sheepishly. Louder he added, "but I'm perfectly fine! We can continue!"

"I don't believe it," said Henry.

"Someone cut your rope," said Charles, "and it wasn't Liz, because she was with me, but we didn't see who did it."

"You fell! From all the way up there! All the way down here!"

"It's okay, Henry, really," said Liz. "Look, he's perfectly fine!"

"He's supposed to be dead," said Henry.

"Yes, about that," started Charles, then frowned. "Wait, what do you mean 'supposed to be'?"

"Ah-hah!" cried Edwin, pointing an accusing finger at Henry. "The fatal slip that solves the case!"

"Henry?" said Liz. "But he's the owner! He makes no money if there's no show!"

"I make no money even if there is a show," cried Henry. "There's no profit in the panto business!"

"You make hundreds of children happy," cried Liz.

"Happy doesn't buy me a rolls," said Henry.

"You were hiding on the stage when Ms. Tuft announced she was allergic," said Edwin, "and you were lurking outside the dressing room before the lipstick was tainted, and while we were talking to Lee! You heard it all."

"Yes, yes, yes," said Harry.

"You tried to kill them both," said Charles.

"Not kill," insisted Henry. "Just make them leave. I didn't want to kill anyone." He glared at them. "But you leave me no choice. No choice at all!"

"Er," said Edwin, "there's something you should know."

"There's something you should know," retorted Henry, reaching into his jacket. "I have a gun!" And he pulled out a shiny silver revolver.

Liz screamed.

"If you're gone, there's no play; and if there's no play, there's no need for a theatre! Insurance on the building and selling the land means nice cushy retirement fund for Henry! Which means," he added, cocking the gun and pointing it at Edwin, "proud and insolent youths, prepare to meet your doom!"

"Edwin!" cried Charles, leaping forward just as the gun thundered, once, twice, three times!

Silence followed.

The slow, heavy silence of the grave, somehow sounding louder than what had come before.

Charles clutched at his chest. Then he turned to look at Edwin who was standing behind him. Then he smiled, sheepishly. "Oh, yeah; we're already dead."

"True." Edwin smiled back. "But it was nice of you to jump in front of me like that. Very heroic."

"Oh, that, well, yes," said Charles, ducking his head and blushing a little. "Any time."

Henry stared at them. Then he stared at his gun. Then he stared at them some more, jaw working, but nothing coming out.

"Did anyone else hear something go 'twang'?" asked Liz. "Like something breaking?"

"No," said Edwin. He listened. "Although I can hear a hissing noise, sort of sliding ropes."

"And now a whistling noise," said Charles. "Like something falling."

There was another short silence.

Everybody looked up.

The crocodile head dropped straight onto Henry, squishing him into the stage.

"...ewwww," said Charles.

With a hissing whisper, the last of the rope curled down to the stage. Edwin picked up the end. "Shot through," he said.

They all stared at the crocodile head.

"See," said Charles, after a moment. "Squishy bits."

"Ewww," said Liz again.

"So," said Edwin. "I think that's 'case solved', don't you?"

"No," said Henry, sitting up through the crocodile and grabbing Liz's arm.

Charles and Edwin both yelped. Liz screamed again.

Henry winced. "Could you stop doing that? I have a splitting headache." He looked around the stage. "I think I dropped my gun."

"Vile miscreant," yelled Edwin. "Unhand that lady at once!"

"Yeah," said Charles. "Let her go!"

"Hands off," cried Liz, struggling.

"No," said Henry. He frowned at the crocodile head. "Now, what's that doing here?"

There was a faint noise in the background, almost like distant choral singers. The far lights started dimming while the light on Henry grew a brighter.

"She's coming!" cried Charles and Edwin.

"We have to get out of here," said Edwin, "but we can't leave Liz!"

"Props," yelled Charles, pointing at the box in the wing he'd stumbled into before. "There might be weapons!"

They lunged for the box, but Henry got in their way, dragging Liz with him. "You're not going anywhere."

"That's no way to treat a lady," said Edwin, loudly, waving Charles towards the box as he got up in Henry's face. "And you, sir, are no gentleman!"

The eerie singing got louder. It would've been impossible to see beyond the stage if anyone had been looking. They weren't, though, since Charles was rummaging through the props, Edwin was glaring at Henry and Henry was glaring right back, which is why he didn't notice Liz draw her foot back.

"Take that!" she yelled, kicking him in shin as hard as she could. "You dark and sinister man!"

Henry yelled and dropped her, then yelled again when Charles chucked a bucket at his head. Edwin grabbed Liz and pulled her away and, together, the three children snatched props from the box and pelted Henry with them until he stumbled and fell over backwards.

There was a bright chime. Henry looked up in fear as a dark shape faded in on the stage. The silver ankh gleamed against pale skin under a mess of blackest hair.

"It's Her!" whispered Charles.

A hand reached out. Henry opened his mouth to scream, but there was no sound from him, only a sound, like the beating of mighty wings, and then nothing; just a cute, little goth girl standing on an empty stage.

The girl brushed her hands off on her dress, then looked around.

"She's coming this way!" Liz whispered.

"Quick!" said Charles and Edwin said, "in here!"

They dived into the prop box, burying themselves in the gear. There was quiet for a bit, then a knock on the lid.

"Um," said Charles, looking at the others. "Hello?"

The lid opened. The woman looked in. "Hello," she said. "Have you seen a couple of detectives about?"

"I'm afraid not," said Edwin, sitting up in a pirate hat and adjusting his eye-patch. "At least, not in here. Did you try in the stalls?"

"Or outside," added Charles, sitting up in a big blonde wig and fanning himself with a large ornamental oriental fan. "I hear they have lots of detectives down the streets."

Liz waved her trident a bit.

"Oh," said the girl. "My mistake." She smiled down at them. "Well, if you ever see them, please tell them I stopped by."

"If we see them," agreed Charles. "But I don't think we will."

"If you do," she said, looking them over. "Are you all pirates, then?"

"I'm not a pirate, ma'am," said Edwin, gravely. "I am an actor!"

The girl's lips twitched and her eyes glittered. "My apologies. Good night." And she quickly closed the lid.

"Phew!" said Charles. "I think she bought it!"

"We are the masters of disguise," agreed Edwin.

"Can you hear someone laughing?" asked Liz. "It's going away."

"It's probably just old beams moving," said Edwin. "This is a rather old theatre."

"Yes," Liz agreed. "It is. An old theatre but a good one. And I think it's going to get better from now on."

"I think so too," said Charles, and the three of them shared a smile.

#

The police investigation into Henry's death, coupled with a few handy pushes on the ghosts' part, both quashed the rumours of a curse on performers and drummed up so much interest in the theatre that the new owner decided not only to keep the place but also to let the show go ahead and so, a few days later, the panto opened to a full house. Critics hated it, of course, but the children enjoyed it, especially that parts where the actors forgot their lines, crashed into each other and generally mucked it up, and the panto did well enough business to guarantee repeats which after all, Charles commented to Edwin, is all Liz ever really wanted: for the show to go on.

"I knew she was a ghost all along, of course," said Edwin.

"Look," said Charles, luckily missing this as he leaned over the edge of their box to point. "There's Lee! She's very good!"

"She does have a certain style," said Edwin, wincing a little as Lee accidentally smacked a pirate with her sword.

There was laughter all over the audience.

"She's not as good as you," said Charles, loyally, as he sat back in his seat, leaning against Edwin.

"Thank you," said Edwin, "but I do hope her performance is rather more conventionally show-stopping than mine. Three ghosts in a theatre is quite enough for any mystery, right, Charles? ...Charles?"

But Charles Rowland was, once again, fast asleep.

 


End file.
